


DamijonWeek2019 Day Six: Bathtime

by HappyDamijon



Series: DamijonWeek2019 [6]
Category: Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Bath Time, Damijonweek, Damijonweek2019, Day 6, Domestic, M/M, happier than my last few fics, kinda??, not fluff but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-14 18:32:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17513753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyDamijon/pseuds/HappyDamijon
Summary: Damian watches him leave stubbornly. The little girls eyes are closed, already drooling on Jon's shirt. They disappear as Jon turns into the kitchen. Great. The smart thing to do would be to leave and forget about the child entirely. She is no where near Damian's responsibility. He should not be forced upon having to care for a child he never asked for, let alone isn't even remotely his. Sure, for the kind hearted it may be seen as cruel, such as Jon, but the difference between them is that Damian doesn't do things if there is no type of gain. He creates gain through discipline. He creates gain through knowledge. What is he going to gain from an underdeveloped human being?Or:Ummm open for a surprise?





	DamijonWeek2019 Day Six: Bathtime

**Author's Note:**

> So I wasn't inspired by any of the day five prompts so I just did both of the day six ones.

"What did they drop off?"

"A bag."

"Thanks, Jon, it's not like I can see from here. What's _inside_?"

Jon huffs, sifting through. He begins to pull everything out, stacking each item on the table, naming them as if Damian, for a second time, cannot see for himself. He should have just asked for the bag.

"Clothes, a blanket, some shoes, some food. A brush, shampoo, a towel. Um. Wipes. A bottle, some...formula, diapers, bibs and whatever the heck everything else is. Creams?"

The baby cries out for attention from the right of Damian. Damian doesn't offer her a glance. She then slaps her fists against the high chair, crying for sure now. 

Jon looks at him. When Damian doesn't relent, Jon rolls his eyes. Damian grabs the bag, annoyed that he's going to have to go through everything else now. What was the point in asking Jon? Why does he ever bother asking Jon for anything?

"Can't even hold a baby," he can hear Jon mumble. He watches Jon grab hold of her, lifting her up and out. She ceases to cry immediately, sitting comfortably on Jon's hip. The toys must have began to bore her. Babies are such needy little things. "Are you _looking_ for something?"

Jon looks annoyed. The baby is already falling asleep on his shoulder. Damian looks back down at the bag.

"No. We need to be aware of what we have."

"As if you plan on doing anything. You haven't held her once." Jon turns his head, his nose scrunching. "Ugh. And I think she needs a bath." 

"She needs her parents," Damian says in reply. He's searched through the rest of the bag, but much like Jon he has almost no idea what everything else is and for what. "The League should be back any moment now."

"They just dropped off _everything we need_. If they thought this was a five minute mission, I don't think they'd bother to ask for our help."

"Well it certainly shouldn't be more than a day."

"And if it is? Are we just never going to give her a bath?"

"Pennyworth is fully capable.” 

Jon groans. "Ugh! I'm going to give her a bath. If you're planning on being any help, grab the bag."

Damian watches him leave stubbornly. The little girls eyes are closed, already drooling on Jon's shirt. They disappear as Jon turns into the kitchen. Great. The smart thing to do would be to leave and forget about the child entirely. She is no where near Damian's responsibility. He should not be forced upon having to care for a child he never asked for, let alone isn't even remotely his. Sure, for the kind hearted it may be seen as cruel, such as Jon, but the difference between them is that Damian doesn't do things if there is no type of gain. He creates gain through discipline. He creates gain through knowledge. What is he going to gain from an underdeveloped human being? 

"Damian!" 

In fact, what type of gain does he get from _Jon_? 

He sits down, refilling the bag with its contents and heading toward the kitchen. Jon has the faucet running, one of the sinks being filled with water. He glances at Jon, raising an eyebrow. 

"I might've called my mom. She said the sink is fine."

"And she couldn't come over?"

"She has _work_ ," Jon says, glaring. Then, quietly, "And she said no to taking the rest of the day off. She'll be on her way at around five though."

"Great. She can bathe the child when she gets here."

"But she stinks! And I've got sensitive smell!" 

"Sounds like a you problem," Damian says, setting the bag down onto the counter. "And are you really going to disturb her from her nap?"

Jon looks down at her, a small wrinkle on his forehead. Damian watches, his heartbeat suddenly rising. He doesn't understand why he's overwhelmed by seemingly nothing. Watching Jon hold a sleeping baby shouldn't elicit such a response. Jon shouldn't elicit any other response besides annoyance, in fact. Or the occasional swell of pride, but that's only on special days. What exactly is this feeling? It's a sort of weird mix of happiness and calm, with a splash of...a _tug_ of something. Deep in his chest. 

"Guess I should," Jon mumbles. He shifts the child around, until she slowly blinks her eyes open. She looks around, confused.  Damian watches her, holding his breath. Once he realizes he's doing it, he rudely clears her throat. She jumps in surprise, her eyes snapping to him. Oh no. That just made things much worse. Why do her eyes have to be so huge? So big and brown and...ugly. And her hair; so short and soft. Also disgustingly thin, as if she's going bald. And her face! So round and mushy. But too...fat. She's not cute, nor is she adorable. She's an ugly little thing. 

Jon tickles her, causing her to laugh. 

"Hurry up with the bath," Damian snaps, the sound of her laughter causing him to twitch. Jon rolls his eyes at him. 

"We don't want a sad baby, huh?" Jon coos at her. He continues to tickle her. "No. We want a happy baby! You're such a happy baby, aren't you? Aren't you?" 

"Would you stop that?" Damian says, stomping his foot. Jon glares at him. 

"Now who's acting more like a child?" 

"The child, because unsurprisingly they _are_ one." Damian pinches his nose. "I might as well bathe her myself, seeing as you seem incapable of doing anything more than amusing the thing." 

 "She's not a _thing_ , she's a _baby_." Jon defends, but he gets the sink started anyway, letting the water flow until it reaches the right temperature. "And if I didn't know any better, I'd assume you're afraid of her." 

" _Afraid_?" Damian splutters. He straightens his shirt. "What on earth made you even _consider_ the mere _thought_ of _assuming_ that—" 

"Here," Jon says, interrupting him. He shoves the child into Damian's arms. Damian would have kept his arms to himself on instinct, but Jon just _let go_ and for a moment the child was actually _falling_ and Damian had no choice but to catch her. Once she's safe in his arms, Damian keeps a moment to himself to catch his breath and even his heartrate, before he explodes. 

"What were you thinking?" Damian asks. "You almost dropped her!" 

"You caught her just fine," Jon says, taking some supplies out of the bag. "And I guess you can say my arms were getting tired, so. You were bound to hold her some time." 

"I don't—she doesn't—" Damian snaps his mouth shut. He doesn't _splutter_. But he'll have to admit, he feels quite overwhelmed having a living being In his arms. This being currently...sucking on his shirt. 

"Stop it," Damian mumbles, pulling his shirt away from her mouth. She looks at him in confusion. She makes a few noises, Damian having no clue what she's going on about. Then she turns her head, looking back at Jon. Good. She already has a favorite. She can go back to Jon. 

Holding her is strange. It's different than holding an inanimate object, or even a pet. She doesn't mind being settled on his hip. She grips onto him, supporting herself. She moves around; wiggles just the tiniest bit. She makes random noises. She's definitely...interesting, to say the least. Damian doesn't mind studying her, for the time being. That way he can at least bear her presence for awhile longer. 

He snaps his attention back to Jon. The sink seems to be filled. There's a row of things on the counter, all of which look helpful for her bath. Jon's looking at him, a small smile on his face. Damian huffs, walking toward him. 

"What?" 

"You two look cute, is all," Jon says nonchalantly. Damian doesn't bother to reply, though he does recall that he was just thinking the same thing about Jon. Perhaps the child is cursed. 

He sets her down onto the counter. He takes a breath. Then he rolls his eyes. Okay, he can do this. It's fine. She's just a child, less than a year old. Damian has been on this earth for longer. He's been through worse. He can help bathe a stupid baby. 

He grabs her shirt, lifting it up. She smiles at him. He lets go immediately. 

"You undress her," Damian mumbles. He takes a step to his right, offering Jon room. Jon's silently laughing at him. He isn't afraid, dammit. It's not _his_ job to undress her. In fact, he isn't required to do _anything_ for her. 

She laughs again when Jon tickles her. Damian throws his head back. 

"Stop making her do that!" 

Jon looks at him, confused.

"Um, what?"

He doesn't stay focused on Damian for long. Jon takes her shoes and her socks off, and then he tickles her feet, smiling. She laughs loudly again. Damian's chest swells. 

"Stop _that_!" 

Jon squints at him. As if Damian isn't making any sense! As if Damian is being unreasonable! 

"You want me to...stop tickling her?" He asks. He stands her up, taking her pants off. He wrinkles his nose, tickling her stomach. "We've got a stinky baby!" She laughs again. 

"I'm leaving," Damian announces. Jon laughs at him. 

" _Why_? She's only laughing. It's not like she's crying. Would you rather have her cry?" 

Damian crosses his arms. "No, but her...laughing, it doesn't sit well with me." 

Jon raises an eyebrow, lying the girl on her back. He begins to take her diaper off. "It...doesn't sit well with you," he repeats slowly. 

Damian nods his head. "Yes." 

"Okay," Jon says. He grabs a few wipes, cleaning her. "So...what's the problem again?"

"It does something weird to me," Damian insists. "I believe she is cursed." 

Jon hums, not taking him seriously. He throws the wipes and the diaper into the trashcan nearby. 

"And how does it make you feel, exactly?" 

Damian watches as the baby smiles, kicking her feet as Jon begins to lower her into the water. She screeches delightfully, laughing again. Damian snaps. 

"It makes me want to squeeze her tightly against my chest and never let go! It's horrible!" 

Jon looks back at him with wide eyes. The baby splashes the water, entirely unaware of what's going on around her. Damian flushes in embarrassment. He shouldn't have said that. He shouldn't have admitted that, of all things. Jon probably thinks he's a freak now. 

"Damian," Jon says, incredulous. "She's a baby. Of course you think she's cute. That's _normal_."

”You don’t understand. It’s overwhelming, Jon.” 

“Everyone feels that,” Jon says, grabbing a cup from the cupboard. “We’re just a lot more used to it. You’ll get used to it too, once you, you know, accept it.” 

“Accept what?” 

“That you find her cute.” 

She continues to splash around. At least she looks happy in the water. It _is_ better than having a crying baby; Jon’s right about that. Damian just doesn’t understand why he has this urge. It’s a bit different than his pets. Of course he feels happy, and sometimes finds the things they do adorable, but for the most part the relationship is equal. His pets don’t _entirely_ depend on him, not anymore at least. If they had to, they can most likely make it on their own. This child _can’t_. If she was under Damian’s care, she’d be entirely dependent on him. For _years_. He would need to teach and protect her; raise her right, so that when she is on her own, she won’t need him. 

God, the child isn’t _his_. What is he going on about? 

“Grab the shampoo please.” 

Despite Damian entirely _not_ wanting to do it, he does it anyway. He begrudgingly hands the bottle to Jon. The boy looks amused, his lips almost pursed. Damian can’t say anything now. He’s already admitted too much to Jon. This is a horrible feeling, and this is why he rarely opens up.

He hands the shampoo to Jon. He takes it, lathering his hand in it before putting it into her hair. Damian's chest tightens even further, when she smiles up at him, soap and bubbles surrounding her.

"Fine," Damian abruptly says. "I suppose she is just the slightest bit endearing." 

"Atta boy," Jon jokes. 

Damian watches as Jon washes the baby. By the time he's finished there are no bath toys for her to play with, so Jon grabs a towel and sets her in it. Damian can't help but admit to himself that she _does_ look cute tightly wrapped up in her pink towel. But _only_ like this. 

But then she tilts her body toward Damian, whining.

"Woah," Jon breathes out with a laugh. "I think she wants you." 

Damian crosses his arms, not looking at her, but at Jon. "No." 

She whines some more. Jon looks down at her and then back at Damian. "Ah, I'm pretty sure she does." 

"Well _I_ don't." 

She whines even louder. Jon raises an eyebrow. He won't fall for anymore of Damian's bullshit. He knows, for sure, that Damian's putting up a stupid front. It's not that he despises babies, there's no damn point in that. They're the future, without a doubt, so he doesn't want to get rid of them or hurt them He just doesn't want to _deal_ with one. Sure, if the child were his he would take the responsibility, because that's what any decent being _should_ do, but she isn't his. They aren't related. He doesn't even _know_ her, nor her him, and yet somehow...

"Give her to me," Damian says, just as she visibly begins to give up. She smiles excitedly when Damian lifts his hands toward her. He takes her in his arms, and she snuggles as much as she can against his chest, shivering just the slightest. Damian holds her tightly, trying to warm her up. He leaves, saying over his shoulder, "Pick some clothes, I'll be in the living room." 

Jon grins at his back. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> proud of myself that this one isn't angsty! but hopefully this one was still enjoyable.


End file.
